


it's not a picture perfect life, not what i had in mind (let me write my own line)

by AquaQuadrant



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Paralysis, Recovery, cross posted on ffn and tumblr, kanan struggles with guilt and self-loathing, mild description, so nothing new for him really, some implied/established kanera in the background, space family angst, spine injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaQuadrant/pseuds/AquaQuadrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels it before he hears the scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impact

**Author's Note:**

> Hi readers! So this was based off a tumblr post made by literally-the-president discussing how tragic it'd be if Kanan accidentally redirected a laser blast as Ezra's spine, paralyzing him for life. Naturally, I had to write it, because I love to suffer apparently. Would something like this happen in canon? Probably not. And I know they have bacta tubes that can heal any number of mortal injuries, but hey, it _is_ fanfiction. 
> 
> First time writing Rebels, as well as messing around with present tense, will probably be a three-shot. Comments appreciated, constructive criticism welcomed. Hope you enjoy! :) - Aqua

**Part I - Impact**

The first explosion nearly throws Kanan off his feet, rolling through the ground like thunder.

The air is heavy with smoke, filling Kanan's lungs and clouding his vision. He can't trust his eyes, so he trusts the force to guide him. He can sense every living soul on the battlefield; Ezra to his left, Sabine and Zeb flanking. The stormtrooper patrol, fifteen strong, regrouping at the smoldering hangar. Their own troops are disorganized, spread out among the rubble.

He can see it all in the force. The stormtroopers are gathered now, and Kanan hears the unmistakable whir of blasters the same second he feels the energy bolts cut through the air. There are mixed shouts of confusion as the rebels scatter for cover. Someone cries out in pain. Something else explodes, so close Kanan can feel the heat on his face.

If they can't regroup, it's a lost cause. Kanan ignites his lightsaber; he'll give them something to shoot at.

The stormtroopers must see his glowing blade through the smog, because suddenly there are shots coming his way. He lets his body take over, catching the bolts with his saber and parrying them away. He moves without thinking, without hesitating, just _feeling,_ his blade arcing through the air. He shifts the hilt to his right hand and lifts his left wrist to his chin.

"This is Specter One, calling all units," Kanan says into the comm-link. "Double back and regroup, I'll cover. Specter Two, we could use some backup."

_"On my way, Specter One."_

Kanan presses forward, giving the rebel forces room to move. He hears feet thud against the pavement, and is able to make out Zeb's bulky figure in the shadows, Sabine in tow. They duck from cover to cover, taking shelter behind piles of crates and destroyed shuttles.

 _"Specter Four to One, me an' Five are pinned back here."_ Zeb's ragged voice filters through the comm.

"Acknowledged," Kanan bats a laser blast away, "get to the rest of the group. I'll draw their fire."

_"Copy that."_

Kanan takes a deep breath and advances, his focus snapping into place. His vision tunnels until he can see nothing except the oncoming rain of blaster fire, winking brightly through the smoke. He moves automatically, determined not to let a single bolt get past. The lightsaber spins in his hand, thrumming with energy as he deflects the shots. He falls into a rhythm, the force humming at the base of his skull.

It's chaos, but it's familiar.

Blood rushes in his ears, the steady pulse drowning out the sounds of battle. The Imperial ships are on fire, groaning as the durasteel melts and buckles under the heat. Black smoke billows up into the sky, and the acidic note in the air tells Kanan of leaking fuel tanks. Something akin to a plan starts to form in his mind, and Kanan moves, deflecting shots as he goes-

He's overwhelmed with a feeling of _wrongness,_ so sudden and fierce it steals his breath from his lungs. Kanan can sense it; a disturbance in the force, a stray shot, glancing off the blade of his lightsaber. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and everything seems to freeze for a moment. Kanan sees it, glowing in the darkness- the force is screaming wrong, wrong, _wrong_ \- and he follows its trajectory to-

Ezra. _Ezra,_ balanced precariously on a stack of crates, unlit lightsaber in hand. He's out of the enemies' line of view, taking the high ground- it's a sneak attack, Kanan realizes uselessly, helplessly- and his back is to him, he doesn't see it, and Kanan can't move fast enough.

He feels it before he hears the scream.

The bolt hits Ezra in the lower back, and Kanan feels something inside of him twist, break, and there's a searing pain at the base of his skull. His breath rushes out in a strangled gasp the same moment Ezra screams; his head snaps back, and his whole body jolts with the force of the shot. The world stops, and Ezra sways where he stands- even from this distance Kanan can see the red blossoming out from the wound- and then he tips slowly over the edge, plummeting to the ground below.

Kanan breaks into a run, his lungs burning, a scream desperately trying to claw out of his throat. He won't make it, Kanan realizes, watching Ezra rapidly approach the hard ground, and he reaches for the force, _lunges_ for it, and throws an arm out.

Ezra stops inches above the ground, hanging limply in the air as the force envelops him. Kanan can already feel the tug at the back of his mind; he blocks it out, gritting his teeth, and keeps his hold on his padawan (he can't touch him, can't let _anything_ touch him, can't even put him on the ground). He sweeps his other arm out, and the stack of crates fall into a wall around them, shielding them from blaster fire.

Kanan all but screams into the comm-link, "I need pick-up _now!_ Ezra's down." His voice is raw, and his heart is racing, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

Hera must hear the urgency in his voice, because she doesn't ask questions. _"I'm on my way, ETA thirty seconds. Hang in there."_

Thirty seconds seem to stretch on forever. He can't hear anything except his heartbeat echoing in his ears, and it isn't until he feels wind in his face that he realizes the _Ghost_ is there. Kanan adjusts his mental grip on Ezra, forehead beaded with sweat, and slowly begins the difficult move.

It isn't until they're both safely inside that his heart climbs down from his throat, and he can breathe again.

The hangar door slams shut, and the _Ghost_ jolts into space.

________________________________________

It's the longest flight of Kanan's life.

The force is a hammer at the back of his mind, beating into his skull and sending jolts of white-hot pain flashing behind his eyes. They must make quite a sight, he thinks absently; Ezra, suspended in the air, and Kanan sitting cross legged in front of him, in a meditative position to hold his focus. He can't put Ezra down, not until he's safe at the base's med bay, because he _knows_ where that bolt hit, and he knows what it means.

And god, how he wishes he didn't.

Hera must be losing her mind, up in the cock-pit with no idea what happened. Kanan can hear Chopper in the room, wheeling circles around them and beeping in agitation, but it's muted somehow, like he's underwater. He hopes the droid will take news of their condition back to Hera, let her know that they're _alive,_ at least, because Kanan can't even afford to speak right now, lest his concentration falter.

Ezra's force signature is faint, but Kanan holds tight, clinging to the only proof he has that his padawan is still alive (his eyes are closed, and he's unable to see the slight rise and fall of Ezra's chest), and it's a comfort, albeit a small one.

He feels the _Ghost_ exit hyperdrive, and Hera's voice blares over the intercom, piercing through the white noise.

_"We're here."_

________________________________________

Kanan ends up sitting in a white plastasteel chair in the hallway outside the medical bay.

People rush back and forth, and it's the only time Kanan is actually thankful for it, because in the post-op chaos he can disappear. A few cast him pitying looks, but most are too preoccupied to notice him. There are other injuries to tend to, and reports to be filed, debriefings to attend... normally he'd be with Commander Sato and the council, to discuss the mission-

The mission... Kanan has no idea what happened. He knows the hangar was destroyed, all the Imperial ships with it, but as far as the battle went, he has no idea if they won or lost. There's dried blood above his right eye; he doesn't remember taking a hit, but everything after Ezra is a blur. His body feels heavy with exhaustion, and a migraine's setting in...

Hera's with him; she might have told him to go rest, but it doesn't register. She's leaning against the wall, her arms folded and her lekku stiff, expression unreadable. The rest of the team joins them moments later, bursting into the hallway; Sabine, breathless, demands to know where Ezra is. Zeb asks what happened, and there's fear in his eyes- he's been through this before, Kanan remembers, he was a soldier- and Chopper's emitting a high-pitched screech.

Hera glances at him before responding. "Ezra's hurt," she says softly, a question hidden in her voice.

"He took a hit to the spine," Kanan supplies, staring at the floor. "He was unconscious... I- I don't know how bad it is."

_Liar._

"Oh, god..." Sabine breathes.

"Karabast," Zeb mutters, his eyes widening. "How- how did this happen?"

"It's my fault," Kanan says. His voice is hollow, even to his own ears.

"Stop it." Hera's expression is tight. "You don't know that. I'm sure you did your best."

Kanan flinches and doesn't reply. They don't understand, none of them know what he did. But as much as he wants to tell them, the words won't come- they choke his throat, bring tears to his eyes, because they don't _get_ it- and he hates it; he wasn't raised a coward, but right now he's more terrified than he's been in a long time. He feels helpless, just like he was back then, but this time it's _his_ fault.

Hera must sense his doubt, because she opens her mouth to speak-

The door to the med bay slides open, and one of the medics is standing there, expression grave.

"Are you here for Ezra Bridger?"

________________________________________

Kanan sits by Ezra's bed, his mind blank and his body numb.

Sabine's on the other side, arms folded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Zeb's pacing the length of the room, ears pinned flat against his skull. Chopper's parked idly at the foot of the bed, uncharacteristically silent. Hera's still talking to the medic, outside of the room. Kanan can faintly hear their voices through the walls, and he thinks Hera might be crying.

The medic's words keep repeating in his mind.

_'We have reason to suspect he has a complete laceration in his thoracic vertebrae. There's significant swelling in the spinal cord, however, so the extent of this damage won't be certain until he wakes up.'_

The air in the room is heavy with the weight of the topic they're avoiding. Sabine seems to be in denial, she didn't even listen to the medic finish. There's anger hanging off Zeb like a dark cloud, and Kanan can't tell what it's directed at. Chopper's silence is the most eerie; the droid has never been so serious, and it's putting Kanan off.

_'The most probable outcome is thoracic paraplegia- that is, paralysis from the waist down. If the spinal cord is truly severed, then there's nothing we can do.'_

Kanan can't tear his gaze away from Ezra. In all his time with the padawan, he can never recall him being so still- it doesn't feel right, Ezra is always moving, he hasn't even mastered meditation yet- and on the medical bed he looks so small. The bed was made to accommodate species and adults much larger than him. He almost disappears beneath the starched white sheets.

_'There is hope; if it **is** a T10-T12 injury, then he'll maintain function from the torso up. Many patients with thoracic paraplegia even learn to walk with aid from specialized astro-mechs and cybernetic enhancements.'_

The door slides open, and Hera slips into the room. Her eyes are red and puffy, her arms drawn around herself, and she won't meet anyone's gaze as she silently approaches the bed. Kanan's heart bleeds for her, and a new wave of grief and guilt washes over him. They're all suffering- and it's his fault.

_'We'll do everything we can to make the adjustment process easier.' A sympathetic look, a comforting hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry.'_

Hera stops by his side, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Kanan leans towards her touch, the tension rolling off his body with a sigh until he just feels empty. He wants to say something, but he doesn't trust his voice- and he doesn't want to break down, not here, not now.

"Hey, love," Hera says softly, her voice hoarse.

Kanan doesn't reply, watching Ezra, the steady rise and fall of his chest- and damn it all if he doesn't just look _peaceful,_ like he's sleeping-

"You should get some rest-"

"I'm not leaving him." His response is immediate, the words out of his mouth before she's even finished.

"Kanan, you spent a lot of energy on that mission," she's still being gentle with him, patient, and it grates on him like broken glass- "you know how badly using the force can affect you. Please, just for a little while, you still have to take care of yourself-"

"I'm not leaving," Kanan insists again. Zeb and Sabine are watching, and he feels even more self-conscious. "If he wakes up and I'm not here-"

There's a catch in Ezra's breathing, and his eyes flutter open.

The air steals from Kanan's lungs, his hands unintentionally clenching into fists. Hera stiffens beside him, and Sabine lets out a soft gasp. Zeb hurries over, expression anxious, gripping the metal bed rail so tightly it starts to give.

The heart monitor's pace quickens, in time with Ezra's racing heartbeat. He lets out a stifled groan, shifting so he's sitting upright. It takes the padawan a moment to recognize them, take in his surroundings. He finds Kanan's eyes, looking lost, and Kanan's throat closes up.

"Wh- what ha-appened?" Ezra's voice is rough, and he winces. "Kanan..? Where- the mission..."

"Shh, it's going to be okay, Ezra," Hera speaks calmly, but it's false; her hand tightens on Kanan's shoulder, so hard she's almost shaking. "The mission's over, you were hurt. Do you remember what happened?"

Ezra blinks, his bright blue eyes clouded with fog and confusion. His gaze settles in front of him, and his brows knit together.

"I- I don't-" He reaches forward, hesitantly, and rests a hand on his knee. His eyes widen, pupils dilate. "I can't feel my legs. Wha- why can't I feel my legs?" His voice rises in pitch until it breaks.

"You were shot in the spine," Kanan forces the words out, each one stabbing through him like a knife. "Ezra, I'm so sorry-"

"What?! You mean I'm- I can't-" The realization hits him, and Kanan can see his world come crashing down behind his eyes. It's too much; Ezra breaks down, his shoulders shaking.

Kanan's face is wet- he's _crying,_ he can't remember the last time he cried- and suddenly he's cursing himself, the Jedi Order, and the whole damn Republic for making him think it was okay to take children into battle, just because it's how he was raised. Cursing the Empire for their damn war, and even the Rebellion for fighting it.

And finally, _finally,_ he understands why his master was willing to die for him.


	2. Collateral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't want to think about what happened. About what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! I really didn't intend to take almost a month to update, but sometimes these things happen. Two down, one to go. Sorry for any previous confusion; this will be a three-parter fic. Thanks for your feedback; comments are greatly appreciated, and I also welcome constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy! :) - Aqua

**Part II - Collateral**

"Checkmate."

"What?" Kanan raises his eyebrows, squinting at the holographic chessboard. "Well, well. You actually got me! Good move."

Ezra hides his grin behind his hand as he resets the game board, satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

Chopper, parked at the foot of the bed, lets out a rapid string of snippy beeps before his tone drops into a chortle.

Kanan managed to convince one of the medics to bring in a holochess table to sit by Ezra's bed. The boy wasn't handling bed rest well, and was prone to bouts of irritation when frustrated with inactivity. Kanan's lost count of how many games they've played, but he's grateful for the distraction as much as he suspects Ezra is.

He doesn't want to think about what happened. About what he did.

It's been three days since the accident. All of Kanan's time has been spent at Ezra's side. He's done his best to help him cope, staying with him through the intimidating and sometimes painful medical tests he has to go through. The rest of the crew are there as often as they can be; Hera's duties as Phoenix leader take her away more than she'd like, but when she is there her presence is a calming one, of empathy and understanding and no expectations.

Sabine spreads sketchpads and paints and pencils all over Ezra's bed, and teaches him how to draw people and landscapes and ships among the stars. (They sketched a still-life of Kanan once, when he accidentally nodded off in his chair. Ezra's rough attempt wasn't very flattering, but he was touched all the same.)

Zeb carries on in his loud, brusque manner, telling Ezra tales of his time in the honor guard, and some of their earlier adventures on the _Ghost_ before him, even before Sabine. He doesn't treat Ezra any differently, but when the boy's not looking Kanan can see the sorrow in his luminous eyes.

Chopper, oddly enough, seems to be taking it hard. Kanan used to think the astro-mech didn't have any emotions besides annoyance and a sadistic sense of humor, but he'll be damned if the droid doesn't look downright depressed. Chopper rarely leaves the foot of Ezra's bed, and is uncharacteristically reserved and somber. He keeps vigil over them throughout the night, a silent show of support and solidarity.

They're all trying, in their own special way. It helps, but there are also times Kanan can tell Ezra's overwhelmed with it all and needs space; he gently sends the others out of the room and just sits with him, sending feelings of safety and stability and reassurance through the force until Ezra can breathe again.

Sometimes he cries. Sometimes Kanan holds him until he stops shaking. Sometimes he can feel Ezra's pain through the force; it steals the air from his lungs, and he wishes more than anything that he could take it away.

Moments like these make Kanan more certain than ever; he'd trade places in a heartbeat.

"Looks like the student has become the master." Ezra's voice brings Kanan back, light and teasing.

"I wouldn't say you're a _master_ yet." Kanan makes a show of rolling his eyes, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a small smile. "You got lucky, okay? I want a rematch."

"Alright, but you asked for it," Ezra quips, cracking his knuckles.

There's a distinct whooshing sound, and suddenly Hera's standing in the doorway, expression apologetic.

"Hey, love? You're needed up at the bridge; Ahsoka wants to talk to you."

"Ahsoka?" Kanan frowns. "What about?"

The Togruta had visited Ezra the day before, to see for herself how he was doing and offer her condolences. There was something odd about the whole affair; Kanan hadn't been able to figure her out. It wasn't as if she was deliberately concealing her feelings, but beyond the obvious sympathy she had been very hard to read. The fact that she was calling him away from the med bay must mean whatever she had to say was fairly important.

"Not sure." Hera knits her brows together, her green eyes puzzled. "She said it shouldn't take too long, though. I can keep Ezra company until you get back."

"Huh. Okay, then." Kanan shrugs and rises from his chair. "That alright with you, Ezra?"

"Uh.. yeah, sure." Ezra sounds nonchalant, but Kanan doesn't miss the anxiety that flashes across his face.

"I'll be right back," Kanan promises.

Ezra nods, takes a shaky breath. He hates being separated almost as much as Kanan does. Kanan offers him a reassuring smile before stepping away from the bed, giving Chopper an affectionate pat. He hopes he looks more confident than he feels.

Hera brushes a feather-light kiss against his cheek as he passes her. "Hang in there, dear," she murmurs.

"I will." There's a heavy feeling in the pit of Kanan's stomach, and when he reaches for the force there's nothing but uneasiness.

He's not looking forward to this.

________________________________________

Kanan paces the length of the room, arms crossed over his chest.

The bridge of the command ship is empty except for him, Commander Sato, and Ahsoka, and his footsteps echo. They're watching him warily, debating how to broach the subject of their meeting. Kanan has a feeling he already knows what they're going to say; he doesn't want to hear it, but he can tell he doesn't have a choice.

"Well? Get on with it." Kanan takes the initiative; his patience is short these days.

"Right." Commander Sato clears his throat, uncomfortable. "Ahsoka, I understand you visited with Ezra in the med bay yesterday?"

"I know this already; I was _there,"_ Kanan can't stop himself from interrupting. He bites his tongue, takes a deep breath. "Sorry. Please continue."

Commander Sato and Ahsoka exchange a look, and Kanan can sense the unease in the air. There's a pause before the commander nods stiffly, excusing Kanan's outburst, before turning to Ahsoka.

"Did you speak to the medics as well?" he asks.

"Yes."

"And?"

"Well, they had originally hoped he'd regain feeling in his legs once the swelling in his spine went down, but... " Ahsoka bites her lip. "That didn't happen. The test they took yesterday morning confirmed it; his spinal cord has been completely severed."

Commander Sato's expression grows ever more somber. "What do you suggest we do about him, then?"

Ahsoka hesitates, her lekku twitching. "I can't recommend that he continue Jedi training. In fact, I think he should cease all involvement with the rebellion as soon as possible."

"What?" Kanan turns on his heel, whirling to face them. "You can't be serious."

"I am." Ahsoka sounds regretful, but it's not enough. "He isn't in any condition to be-"

"So maybe he doesn't go out in the field for a while," Kanan interrupts. "That's fine. But we don't have to send him away! He can stay on the bench, focus on healing- you know there are ways for him to walk again, there are special prosthesis out there, we have connections-"

"Kanan, just think for a moment." Ahsoka's voice is almost pleading. "Here, he's in constant danger. An attack could come at any moment, and in his condition he can't defend himself, and you won't always be there to protect him."

Kanan flinches. "That's- you don't know that."

"I can't take that chance," Ahsoka says grimly. "It's the best option for him right now."

"This will be good for him," Commander Sato agrees. "He needs to get away from the stress of the rebellion so he can focus on healing. And who knows, with a little time and training, he might be ready to join us again. Why can't you understand that this is the best thing to do?"

"Because I know my padawan, and he's going to think we're dumping him because we think he isn't useful to us anymore!" Kanan's fighting to keep his voice level, his chest tightening uncomfortably. "Being a Jedi is _everything_ to Ezra. You take that away from him-"

"That's not what this is about," Commander Sato says firmly. "This is about Ezra's safety."

"He's not gonna see it that way," Kanan insists again, but it's a pointless plea.

"There's nothing we can do about that." Commander Sato waves his arm dismissively. "I will not have him in danger if I can help it. We'll make the necessary arrangements; shelter, supplies, and the like. We'll stay in touch, keep an eye on you and make sure no trouble comes your way." His expression softens. "I'm sorry, but this is my final decision... you should be the one to tell him."

Kanan forces down his disappointment, chokes down his anger. "Fine."

"I'll get in touch with a prosthesis specialist immediately," Ahsoka adds. "But I'm not making any promises."

"I wouldn't expect you to keep them anyways." Kanan starts for the door, but Ahsoka leans forward and catches him by the arm.

"Kanan..." Her grip is firm, and Kanan forces himself to stop, his shoulders hunching with tension.

"Yes?" He fails to keep the irritation from his voice.

"I'm sorry," Ahsoka tells him, and the pain and sincerity leaking through the force is enough to sober him immediately. "I... know this must be hard for you. Anyone can see how much you care for your padawan. I just wish we could do more."

"No, it's alright." The guilt is back, and Kanan closes his eyes. "This... wasn't your fault, it's not fair of me to take my anger out on you."

"Don't worry about it. And Kanan? One more thing..." There's a bit of hesitancy before Ahsoka continues. "... the Jedi Order was wrong."

"What?" Kanan's head snaps up, and he spins to face her. "What do you mean?"

"It's okay to have attachments. Making connections with people is important... natural, even, as long as you don't let it control you," Ahsoka says, and her expression is too severe to be speaking metaphorically. Experience is the harshest teacher. "And it isn't healthy to stifle your emotions. The Jedi of old did a lot of good, but they did a great deal of harm, too." Her eyes soften. "Make sure Ezra understands."

The Jedi code leaps to his mind instantly.

_'There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force.'_

But none of that was really true, was it? The mantra he learned as a youngling returns to his thoughts, warm and familiar and right.

_'Emotion, yet peace._

_Ignorance, yet knowledge._

_Passion, yet serenity._

_Chaos, yet harmony._

_Death, yet the Force.'_

To put your faith in the good doesn't mean you can't acknowledge the bad. Denial doesn't bring change or resolution; to conquer evil you have to face it head on, and accept it for what it is. Kanan can feel a subtle shift inside him, and he knows it's for the better.

"I- I will." He bows his head. "Thank you, Ahsoka."

The path ahead of him is going to be difficult. They're all going to be tested in ways Kanan can't anticipate, but he knows it's okay to not have all the answers. Emotions are a natural part of growth, not a weakness that must be snuffed out. The former Jedi ideals just aren't practical in this world, not anymore. And as long as he doesn't let his feelings control him, he has nothing to fear.

_'You must not grow too attached, too fond, too in love with life the way it is now.'_ His master's voice is a whisper in his ear, scarcely there but real enough. _'Those emotions are valuable and should not be suppressed, but you must learn to rule them, padawan, lest they rule you.'_

Kanan's going to have to face the reality of his mistake eventually, but for now he needs to be there for Ezra.

_Thank you, Master. Force be with me._

________________________________________

Kanan's heart is heavy when he returns to the med bay.

Ezra and Hera are both curled up with datapads, reading in contented silence. The whole room is filled with a calming atmosphere; Hera's presence has a greater effect on Ezra's mood than either of them realize. It makes Kanan even more reluctant to have this conversation, knowing it will destroy Ezra's peace of mind, but there's no getting around it.

"Hey." Ezra glances up from the datapad in his lap. "You're back."

"Yeah." Kanan rubs the back of his neck, avoiding his padawan's eyes.

"So... what was that about?" Ezra's voice is casual, but Kanan feels the spike of anxiety through the force. "What did they want?"

"Just... more talking. Planning, that sort of thing." Kanan locks eyes with Hera, subtly tilting his head towards the door.

She understands immediately. "C'mon, Chopper, we should go recharge your battery," Hera says, rising from her chair. "We'll be back later, Ezra."

The droid begins to protest, but Hera silences him with a stern look. He rattles off a hasty agreement and follows her out of the room, wheels screeching on the tiled floor. The door slides shut behind them, leaving the two alone.

"Everything okay..?" Ezra's picking up on Kanan's emotions; either their connection is growing stronger, or Kanan has a worse poker face than he thought.

"Yeah, just... we need to talk." Kanan tries not to collapse into the chair by Ezra' bed, giving him a weak smile when he thinks he fails.

"Okay..?"

Kanan closes his eyes, inhales slowly, and thinks for a second, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject. "See, the thing is- you remember when Ahsoka visited you yesterday?" He waits for Ezra to nod. "Well, she's been talking to Commander Sato- that is, they'd been talking about it, and..."

"What are you trying to say?" Ezra presses.

"You can't be a Jedi, Ezra," Kanan says finally.

Ezra stares at him, disbelief and fear flashing in his eyes. "What..? You... you don't mean that."

"I do." Kanan grimaces, pain gripping his heart. "At least, not right now. It's just too dangerous. Ahsoka has recommended you not only stop Jedi training, but all involvement with the rebellion as a whole."

"What?" Betrayal fills Ezra's voice, shooting through the force and sinking into Kanan like claws. "You're- so just like that, you're done with me? You- you're giving up?" His breathing hitches, eyes filling with tears.

"No- _no,_ of course not, Ezra, listen," Kanan pleads. "Just let me explain-"

"You're abandoning me..." All at once Ezra's anger and betrayal turns into panic and fear, and Kanan's own heart rate spikes in response. The accusation in Ezra's eyes hurts, but what hurts even more is the cold realization, like he's always expected it. "You're just like everyone else." He turns his face away, and Kanan can feel the wall coming up between them.

"Ezra, listen to me, I'm not abandoning you," Kanan says quickly. He reaches out to place a hand on Ezra's shoulder, hesitates, and folds him arms instead. "We're coming with you, all of us. We're taking the _Ghost,_ and we're gonna lay low for a while, understand? Nobody's leaving you."

Ezra looks up in shock, his expression doubtful and confused and all too hopeful. "Really?"

"Really," Kanan assures him. "I'm not leaving you. We're going to get through this together."

"Oh." Ezra's voice is small. He swallows, looking chagrined, and glances away. "Kanan, I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," Kanan says soothingly. "You didn't know."

Ezra meets his gaze again, eyes shining with tears. "Thank you."

All at once Kanan's composure crumbles without warning, and he's taken aback by how two little words can affect him so much. His throat tightens, eyes stinging. He doesn't deserve the gratitude, and dare he say _love,_ in the boy's eyes, because he's the reason this all happened. His guilt is only overwhelmed by his anger at himself for being so afraid to tell Ezra the truth, so afraid of losing that spark of love in the boy's eyes when he looks at him, that he's proving why he isn't worthy of it in the first place.

Ezra's still looking at him, sapphire eyes filled with expectancy and concern and so much emotion that Kanan does the only thing he can think to and wraps him in a hug, as if that could somehow make up for it all.

Without hesitating, Ezra returns the embrace, and Kanan squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like the lowest being in the universe.

And now he knows the truth; he could live a thousand lives and _never_ be a good enough man to deserve forgiveness.


	3. Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sees it all again- what would’ve happened if he hadn’t caught Ezra; what happened when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *realizes one of my fics still needs one final chapter to finish it up and I haven't updated in almost seven months*
> 
> *writes an extra 4k words to make up for it*
> 
> ... so uh... hi guys? omg I'm sooo sorry for sort of abandoning this, I swear I didn't intend to but after I had written a thousand words I got caught up in medical research and star wars canon and prosthetics and just tons of research and then I never really picked it back up so... yeah. I decided to finally call it, it's fiction so it doesn't need to make total sense. This final chapter is three times the length of the others to make up for the huge break. This arc turned to be more Kanan, Ezra, and Hera-centric than I intended. I love Sabine and Zeb, don't get me wrong, but whenever I tried adding them in it ended up feeling forced and it messed with the pacing and narrative and I ended up just leaving them out. If I ever write anything else for this verse, I'll be sure to feature them. 
> 
> I also went back and made some minor changes to the previous chapters. Nothing too big, but you might want to go back and re-read them as a refresher. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! - Aqua

**Part III - Mend**

When the firefight starts, Kanan’s ready.

His lightsaber hums with energy in his grip, cutting through the air. His movements are fluid, confident; as natural and effortless as breathing. Years of training take over, and he doesn't have to think; just react.

Blaster bolts rain through the smoke, tiny dashes of red that streak by at breakneck speed, but Kanan’s faster. He catches them on his blade, ricocheting the shots back to their senders. Some hit, some miss. He can’t see, but he can feel it.

He’s in his element; where others see only chaos and confusion, Kanan finds familiarity. His breathing is controlled, his heartbeat steady, the whispers of a long-gone master echoing in his ears. Everything is automatic; he doesn’t even think twice before splicing one of the blasts off to the side.

Out of the corner of his eye, something enters his field of vision, and white hot pain strikes the base of his skull, warning, screaming, _‘wrong, wrong, wrong!’_ He registers it too late; a flash of orange, a mop of dark hair, and wide blue eyes. 

Ezra. _Ezra._

Kanan turns in time to see the shot connect. It hits _hard,_ throwing Ezra to the ground where he stays, steam curling up from his motionless body.

_“Ezra!”_

Everything else stops, and the seconds it takes Kanan to run to him stretch on forever, as if he’s moving in slow motion, his ears ringing.

“Ezra?” He finally reaches him, and his heart misses a beat. Ezra is perfectly still, his face slack and pale. He can’t even tell if he’s _breathing._ “Ezra, wake up,” Kanan pleads, pressing his fingers against the boy’s thin wrist. 

There; a thready pulse, sporadic in its beats. Ezra takes a shallow breath; he’s _alive-_

"You're gonna be fine, don't quit on me now, kid." Kanan's voice shakes as he gathers Ezra in his arms and flips him onto his back. His breathing hitches at the sight of the wound; a deep gouge in his stomach, his flesh a mottled mass of red.

“Oh no, no no _no!”_ Kanan presses his hands over the wound, flinching when Ezra cries out in pain. Blood quickly stains his hands, thick and warm. “Specter Two, I need pick-up now!” 

There’s no response; the comm is dead static. 

Ezra gasps; his body seizes, his blue eyes wild and far away. He’s going into shock.

“Ezra, look at me.” Kanan reaches through the force, shuddering at the cold he finds. “St- stay with me.” He can feel Ezra’s life force ebbing away, alarmingly fast, and panic grips him. _“Ezra!”_

“Ka- anan..?” Ezra manages to focus on him, weak but alive.

“Ezra?” Kanan could cry with relief. “It’s gonna be okay, Ezra, you’re going to be okay-”

“What did y- you _do..?”_

Kanan’s blood turns to ice. “I- I didn’t-”

"You... y- you did this... to me..?" Ezra's voice is small and broken, his eyes filled with confusion and hurt. A wet cough rips from his throat as he struggles to breathe, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. "Wh- why..?"

"No, please, I didn't mean to!" Kanan says desperately. "Ezra, stay with me, _please!"_

Ezra stares at him, a tear streaking down his scarred cheek. “How.. _could_ you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kanan cries. “Ezra, please, don’t go.”

Ezra stares up at him, his face stricken with betrayal. A shudder runs through him, and Ezra’s eyes grow unfocused, the light in them dimming as the air leaves his lungs in a shaky exhale. The life leaves him quickly, and he hangs limply in Kanan’s arms, his head lolling. 

He’s gone.

Kanan forgets how to breathe. He stares for a moment, uncomprehending, before the pain crashes into him like a wall. 

Grief erupts in his chest; he cradles Ezra's lifeless body and screams. 

________________________________________

Kanan wakes up violently, jolting in his chair; he bites back the shout rising in his throat, just barely managing to contain it.

Looking around wildly, it takes him a second to realize where he is. It’s been over a week since the accident- he's in the med bay, sitting by Ezra's hospital bed. The boy is fast asleep, curled up safely in the covers. It's night, and everything's still and quiet; his eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness. He inhales sharply through gritted teeth, his heart pounding.

He's safe. Ezra's _safe._

Kanan swears under his breath and runs his trembling hands through his hair, his eyes stinging. He hasn’t had a dream like that in a long time. 

He clenches his hands into fists, remembering Ezra’s blood on his hands, the smell of burnt flesh. It was so vivid… watching the light leave his eyes, feeling his life slip away... Kanan's stomach churns at the memory of it. If he’d hadn’t cut himself off from the force days ago, he'd worry it was a vision.

There’s a sudden low rumble, and Kanan jumps as Chopper rolls around the corner of the bed. The droid shines a beam up at Kanan, the blinking red light on his monitor glaring at him accusingly like a solitary eye, before he takes in Kanan's expression. The flashlight quickly dims, and Chopper warbles inquisitively.

_What's wrong?_

"Nothing, just a bad dream," Kanan whispers hoarsely. "Don't worry about it, Chop."

Chopper gives a low trill, sounding doubtful.

“I mean it, really.” Kanan rubs at his eyes. “I’m fine, I’ll go back to sleep.”

Chopper seems to stare at him for a moment before relenting, giving him one last reproachful beep before rattling back over to his spot at the foot of Ezra’s bed. 

Kanan lets out a slow breath, his eyes shutting. His heart is still pounding, and every nerve is on edge, adrenaline itching beneath his skin. The sheer panic and terror from his dream has passed, replaced by cold, heavy dread that sinks into his bones. 

His mind is made up; he has to tell Ezra. And soon.

________________________________________

Kanan doesn’t go back to sleep that night.

How can he? His body is still riding the aftermath of his dream, shaky with apprehension. Every time he closes his eyes he sees him; Ezra, bloody and pale and broken, deadweight in his arms. It’s not an image Kanan’s likely to forget any time soon. 

His mind is racing nonstop. How should he tell Ezra? What will he think of Kanan once he knows? 

Ezra gave up everything to come with Kanan and the _Ghost._ He left behind the life he knew, and the only home he’d ever had, to risk uncertainty and danger to follow the teachings of an order on the brink of extinction, making himself one of the most targeted individuals in the galaxy. To fight tyranny and oppression and try to make the universe a better place because it was the _right thing to do._

How can Kanan ever hope to make it up to him? It was an inexcusable and unforgivable mistake. All he can do is stay by his side, and hope that Ezra will trust him again someday.

 _‘But do you deserve his trust?’_ a treacherous part of him whispers. _‘You’re the one person who’s supposed to always be there for him, to protect him, and look what happened.’_

Beside him, Ezra stirs, and Kanan banishes his thoughts to the back of his mind. No time to worry about them now.

“Mmm, hey Kanan,” the teen mumbles groggily, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “G’morning…” 

“Mornin’, kid. How’d you sleep?” Kanan pretends to be reading something off of a datapad so he doesn’t have to meet Ezra’s eyes.

“Good,” Ezra yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “What about you? You… you look like you didn’t sleep at all.” His voice has sobered by the end of his sentence, and Kanan  
feels his gaze on him.

“I’m fine.” He looks up from the datapad and smiles weakly. “You hungry? Chopper, go get him some food from the cafeteria.”

The astromech beeps his acknowledgement and rattles out of the room.

Ezra raises an eyebrow. “Okay, Kanan, what’s up?”

“Nothing!” Kanan busies himself with the datapad, stowing it in the bedside table. He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers. “Just… I need to tell you something.”

“Okay..?” Ezra tilts his head, his dark bangs falling into his eyes.

“And… I just want you to know that it might change the way you feel about me. And that’s okay.” At the end of it all, the last thing Kanan wants is Ezra to feel any guilt or responsibility for what happened, or how he feels about it. He’s not going to pull that Jedi banthashit of ‘moving beyond emotions and rejoicing in the force,’ or however the kriff it goes. 

Ezra looks put off. “Kanan, you’re kinda freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” Kanan smiles weakly. His heart rate is a tad too fast to be comfortable. He inhales slowly, bracing himself, and opens his mouth-

 _Knock knock._

“Ezra? Kanan? Can I come in?”

Ahsoka.

Kanan doesn’t know whether to curse her timing or be grateful. Ezra glances at the door, and back to him, a question in his expression.

“Later,” Kanan promises, ignoring the cold dread that sits in his stomach. He turns to the door. “Yeah, come in,” he calls. 

The door slides open with a whoosh, and Ahsoka enters, followed by a stooping, teal-skinned Duros man, his blaring red eyes staring about him in something akin to wonder. He wears a crisp white jumpsuit and long, thick gloves stained with grease and oil. There's a pair of goggles pushed back on his broad forehead, equipped with an odd assortment of magnifying lenses and scopes, and one of the medic's datapads tucked under his arm.

"This is Suntod Zhellom." Ahsoka introduces him with a sweep of her arm. "He's a doctor and an expert in cybernetics, and has experience with paralysis. I'm confident he's the man for the job."

Ezra's smile is forced. "Great…"

"It's nice to meet you, Dr. Zhellom." Kanan shoots Ezra a look and steps forward, arm extended. "We really appreciate you coming out here."

"It's no trouble." Dr. Zhellom takes his hand and shakes it enthusiastically. "I have a great deal of admiration for the rebellion. It's my pleasure to help anyway I can."

Kanan's starting to feel a lot more at ease. "I'm glad to hear it. My name's Kanan, and this is Ezra." He gestures to his padawan, watching mistrustfully from his bed.

"Hey,” Ezra says weakly.

“Hello, Ezra.” The doctor inclines his head, smiling politely.

Ahsoka clears her throat. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything." She gives Ezra an encouraging smile before excusing herself. 

The door slides shut with a sense of finality, and all of a sudden it’s too quiet, too static- Ezra’s leaning away from the doctor, shoulders hunched with tension, like he’s expecting an attack- and Kanan speaks up before the silence grows uncomfortable. 

"So, uh, why don’t you take a seat? I’m sure your journey was tiring, we’re pretty far from Duro.”

“Of course.” Dr. Zhellom pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. “But really, it was no trouble. I do so love space travel, and it’s not often I get to venture off world.” His expression sobers somewhat. “You know how it is, with the Empire’s new regulations.”

“Right…” Kanan rubs the back of his neck, glancing at Ezra. He’s watching the doctor with trepidation, and Kanan doesn’t need the force to sense his unease. “So how did you end up specializing in prosthetics?” he asks, hoping to break the ice. 

Dr. Zhellom smiles kindly. “The same way most of us get into the business.” He lays his left forearm on the bedrail and slips the fingers of his other hand underneath his glove, tugging it off in one fluid motion. Shiny metal fingers wave up at them, the inner workings of the prosthetic whirring softly.

Kanan raises his eyebrows, and he hears Ezra inhale.

“What happened?” he asks. At Kanan’s look, Ezra flushes. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?” he adds uncertainly.

The Duros looks amused. “That’s quite alright. It was a childhood accident.” Dr. Zhellom flexes his mechanical hand before pulling his glove back on. “Losing my arm only made me want to improve. It drove me to learn everything I could about cybernetics and organic medicine. I built my first fully-functioning replacement at twelve, though I’ve gone through dozens of others since then. Always updating,” he says fondly. “And now, I can use my skills to help others who need it.”

Kanan’s aware of Ezra beside him, listening intently. “Well, it sounds like you have a lot of experience, then,” he notes. “I hope you can help us.” 

"Yes, well, let’s see what I can do." Dr. Zhellom scrolls through his datapad. "Thoracic paraplegia… looks like a complete laceration in the T-10 vertebrae, yes?” 

“Uhm…” Ezra blinks. “Yes?”

Dr. Zhellom nods briskly. "Now then, it's all fairly simple. We can attach cybernetic enhancements to your legs very easily, but since we are dealing with paralysis and not amputation or otherwise dismemberment, we'd have to insert a wireless chip in your spinal cord just above the point of laceration. This will receive the electrical impulses your brain sends when it wants to prompt movement, and then send those messages to the enhancements.”

“Woah, really?” Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s insane!”

“Yes, quite so,” Dr. Zhellom says, amused. “The whole process will be immediate and thoughtless, as easy as moving your own limbs." He spreads his hands. "However, it can be very tiring; anything more than walking will be a challenge, and I'd recommend a wheelchair for longer distances. But, for the most part, you will be able to lead a relatively normal  
life."

Ezra chews his lip. It's not enough, not what he was hoping for, Kanan can tell.

"Well, what if we... what if I _didn't_ have legs?" he ventures carefully.

Kanan bites back his immediate objection and holds his breath. 

"That... would, admittedly, simplify the process." Dr. Zhellom rubs his chin. "Replacements would move much more efficiently without having to interact with-"

"Would I be able to move faster? Y'know, running, jumping... fighting..?"

He gives Ezra a long, curious look. "Yes. Most amputees find that artificial replacements work just as well, or even better than, organic limbs. Generally, we attach the replacement with a synth-net neural interface, but since you are paralyzed we'd still have to insert the chip instead. That shouldn't be a problem; you'd still have complete control, but unlike other cases there would be no sensation. We'd... we'd have to amputate your legs."

"I know." Ezra bites his lip.

"Okay then,” Dr. Zhellom says gently. “I know of several facilities that can perform the operation-”

“Wait! Can- can it be you?” Ezra says hesitantly, his cheeks flushing. “I mean- can you do this kind of thing?”

“Certainly,” Dr. Zhellom says. “I can speak with Ms. Tano to find a planet with low Imperial influence. And getting into a facility shouldn’t be hard- it’s not uncommon for patients to bring in outside help for specialized procedures such as this.”

Ezra nods slowly. “Okay… good.” There’s a nervous tremor in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend.” The Duros rises from his seat. “Now, I’ll go find Ms. Tano so we can go ahead and get started.”

“Thanks again,” Ezra says, with a small smile.

Dr. Zhellom returns the smile and waves to them before departing. Kanan waits until the door closes behind him to speak.

"Ezra, you're not seriously considering-"

"I am." In that moment, Ezra looks much older than his fifteen years. "Kanan, think about it, this is the best chance I have. It's the only way things can return to normal."

"But you can't just-"

"Why not? They're not doing me any good like this, and they're just getting in the way." Ezra's eyes darken, his voice edged with bitterness. 

Kanan pauses, sensing his padawan’s turmoil. “Ezra, this is a big decision,” he says carefully. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s best for you, but I’d like you to take some time to think it over before making a final decision. And if you’re absolutely sure that this is what you want, then we’ll support you.”

“It is,” Ezra insists quickly.

Kanan frowns. “Ezra… I’m glad you seem to know what you want, but I want to make sure it’s for the right reasons. This... this isn’t just because you want to feel useful to the rebellion, is it? Or to us? Because no matter what you decide, we’re always going to accept you.” His voice grows softer. “You know that, right?” 

This time, Ezra thinks for a moment before answering. “Yeah… yeah, I know that,” he says quietly, his hands fidgeting. “And… maybe in another life, I’d be okay with this. Just having the enhancements and living a normal life. But… this is what I want.” Ezra looks up at him, his blue eyes full of conviction. “This is the life I want to live; fighting with the rebellion, following the path of the Jedi, standing up for those who can’t-” 

At Kanan’s wince he pauses, his mouth pulling up in a half-smile. “Okay, poor choice of words. But this is what I want. This is who I want to be. And this is the best chance I’ve got of making that happen.” A familiar, confident grin makes its way across Ezra’s face. “Of course, if I had to, I bet I could learn how to kick butt in a wheelchair. But since I actually have the choice to make it easier, shouldn’t I take it?” 

His voice is earnest, and self-assurance radiates off of him. Kanan lets his eyes shut for a moment and sorts through his thoughts and feelings, searching himself for any doubt in Ezra’s decision. 

There is none. Something is humming at the back of his mind, _yes, yes, this is right,_ and honestly, Ezra never needed his permission anyways.

“Okay.” He opens his eyes. “I’ll let Commander Sato know your decision, and we can start arranging everything.”

Ezra’s eyes light up. “Really? Great! When do you think we can get started? Can we do it soon? I’m sick of staying in the med bay, it’s so boring! What do you think my new legs will look like? I’ve seen some really weird prosthetics on the black market- hey!” He sits up suddenly, as if a thought had just come to him. “Do you think they could make me taller?” 

Kanan laughs, and the last of the tension drips from his shoulders. “Well, I don’t know. First we have to talk over the procedure with Dr. Zhellom and figure out what exactly we’re looking at, and then we have to find a planet that’s low on the Empire’s radar and can provide the type of facility we’ll need. Then we have to arrange transportation and figure out some type of long-term boarding on planet, since I doubt the _Ghost_ will be a good place to recover. And of course, all this has to go through Commander Sato’s protocols.” 

Ezra groans. “But that’s gonna take so _long…”_

“Well, then I better go get started.” Kanan takes this as his excuse to leave, rising from his chair. “You get some rest, okay? I have a feeling the whole process is going to be tiring.”

“O- _kay,”_ Ezra drawls, flopping back against his pillows. “But in the meantime, could you at least send someone else up to play dejarik with me? Chopper cheats.”

That makes Kanan chuckle. “Sure.” 

At the doorway, Kanan hesitates. Ezra seems to have all but forgotten about their conversation earlier. A small voice in the back Kanan’s mind whispers, _‘you should tell him now. The longer you wait the worse it will get.’_

But at the same time… 

“Something wrong, Kanan?” Ezra asks, oblivious. 

He’s in higher spirits than he’s ever been since the accident. He’s already looking to the future, upbeat and positive and hopeful. Kanan doesn’t want to ruin it just yet. He’ll let Ezra enjoy this as long as he can.

Kanan summons a convincing grin. “Just thinking about how Sabine’s going to kick your butt at dejarik,” he taunts.

Ezra barks out a laugh. “I’d like to see her try!”

The door slides shut behind him, cutting off any more of Ezra’s challenging remarks, and Kanan can finally fall apart.

________________________________________

Later, Kanan finds himself aimlessly wandering the huge rebel command ship. 

He tries to track down Sabine and make good on his promise, but he finds Hera instead; at the end of the hallway, deep in conversation with Commander Sato. Neither party looks happy, and as he makes his way down the hall he can hear the displeasure in their voices. 

“-implore you to reconsider,” Commander Sato is saying.

“Thanks, but I’ve made up my mind.” Hera’s lekku are twitching in irritation. Kanan can tell this is a subject she’s quickly growing tired of. “I’m sure you can find someone else who’s more than qualified for it.”

“Very well.” Commander Sato dips his head. “If you change your mind-”

“I’ll let you know.” Hera smiles thinly.

As Kanan grows closer, Commander Sato notices his approach and narrows his eyes. Kanan can’t quite get a reading on his feelings towards him. It changes from time to time, but recently it’s an odd mix of distaste, begrudging respect, sympathy, and the slightest hint of wariness. He nods at Kanan in greeting, his face betraying nothing but polite regard. 

“Commander.” Kanan tilts his head in acknowledgement, one hand casually winding around Hera’s waist.

Commander Sato holds his gaze for a moment before turning back to Hera. “Well, if you have nothing more to say on the matter then I’ll take my leave. I have to attend to my duties.” There’s the smallest edge of accusation in his words, so slim and brief it might as well have been imagined.

“As do I,” Hera replies evenly.

Commander Sato turns on his heel and retreats down the hallway, and Hera finally turns to Kanan, smiling at him with no small amount of relief. 

“Hey, love,” she says affectionately. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” Kanan waits until the commander is out of earshot before fixing Hera with an inquisitive look. “So what was that about?”

Hera glances back at Commander Sato’s retreating figure. “Oh, that. Commander Sato was just trying to convince me to stay. You know, because I’m Phoenix leader. Or, I was.”

Kanan blinks, and the realization hits him. “Oh, kriff Hera, I never even asked you-”

“It’s fine,” she insists, waving a hand dismissively. “It was always my intention to stay with Ezra and-”

“No, I- I just assumed that you’d… I shouldn’t have done that,” Kanan sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course you have other duties. I shouldn’t expect you to just-”

“If you think for one second that my duties here are more important to me than my crew’s well-being, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” Hera’s voice is stern; not in anger, but conviction. “Of _course_ I was going to come with you. It was never a question. I’ll bet Sabine and Zeb feel the same.”

“But it’s _not_ the same,” Kanan protests, unwilling to forgive himself so easily. “For as long as I’ve known you, this has always what you’d wanted to do. When we met, I really couldn’t care less about doing good, much less stopping the Empire. I was content to scratch out whatever living I could, always looking for my next paycheck. You know I never believed in the cause; that was _you._ You helped others not because it benefited you, but because it was the right thing to do. _You_ started that change in me, helped me get back on the right path. And now that you’re here, finally doing what you wanted to all along, I expected you to just drop everything and follow me without even _asking_ you.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Kanan,” Hera sighs, looking touched. “As much as I love being a captain in the rebellion, and fighting the good fight and all that, at the end of the day my crew will _always_ take priority. Ezra’s going to need all of us, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Without you, and Sabine and Zeb. Yes, the rebellion can make great use of my skills, but my place is on the _Ghost._ It always will be.” She reaches up to gently cradle his face. “Okay?”

Kanan breathes out a small smile. “Alright.”

“Good.” Hera’s hands come down to rest on his shoulders. “And remember, Ezra is the one who inspired you to follow the path of the Jedi again. So it’s all come full circle.”

At the mention of the Jedi, Kanan feels his mood sour. If he hadn’t taken up the mantle of Jedi again, he never would’ve hurt Ezra. Who was he kidding? He’d never be a real Jedi. What kind of Jedi hurt his own padawan? A real Jedi master would’ve been able to see it coming and prevent it. 

“Kanan?” Hera asks, her voice laced with concern. “Is something wrong?” 

“Yeah, no, I just…” He hesitates. “If I hadn’t decided to try and be a Jedi again, this never would’ve happened to Ezra.” 

“Kanan, what do you…” Hera’s teal eyes widen in realization. “You- you’ve been cutting yourself off from the force since it happened, haven’t you? You haven’t even meditated-”

“What good would that do?” Kanan snaps. “The force didn’t save Ezra. It sure as hell isn’t going to fix this. What good is it if I can’t even protect the people I-” He breaks off, anger churning in his stomach, and turns to go. “Forget it.”

Hera catches his arm. “Kanan, I want to understand. Please, help me understand.” 

Kanan struggles briefly with his conflicting emotions. _‘Tell her!’_ part of him screams. _‘They all deserve to know! They need to see who you really are!’_

That terrifies him. He doesn’t want to lose them; to go back to being alone and cast out with no one to care about except himself. But if that’s his punishment, then… he’ll have to take it. 

Kanan licks his lips. Breathes in, breathes out. Big inhale.

“I was the reason Ezra got hurt.”

Hera blinks at him. Her brows knit together. “You- what? I don’t-”

“The blaster bolt that severed Ezra’s spine was reflected off my lightsaber. _I’m_ the reason it hit him.” Kanan swallows back a hoarse, desperate laugh, his eyes stinging. “I paralyzed my own padawan.”

Saying the words out loud for the first time brings a fresh wave of grief crashing down on him. His breathing hitches, and it’s like it’s happening again, the scene replaying before his eyes. He relives it, watching Ezra’s limp form plummet towards the ground.

He sees it all again- what would’ve happened if he hadn’t caught Ezra; what happened when he did. 

“Kanan..?”

“It shouldn’t have happened.” Kanan’s shaking. His voice sounds far away, even to his own ears, and slightly distorted, as if he’s speaking through a comm. Behind his eyes, he watches Ezra fall again and again, his small figure lying still and broken in a pool of bright red blood. “Hera, I could’ve _killed_ him.”

 _“Kanan.”_

Kanan jolts, coming back to himself abruptly. He blinks at the change in surroundings; at some point, Hera had moved them to a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes.

Her fingers are loosely curled around his wrists, where his pulse jumps beneath his skin. Her eyes are wide and searching, creased with worry and no small amount of alarm.

“Kanan,” Hera breathes again, tightening her grip on his wrists. “Are you with me, love?”

“Y- yeah,” Kanan grits out, a violent shudder running through his body. “I- I just- it’s all my fault, he could be _dead_ and it would’ve been _my fault,_ I…” He takes a shaky, rasping breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Kanan…” Hera wraps him in a hug, her head tucked beneath his chin in a familiar embrace. “I didn’t know. You’ve been holding all this in- I should’ve seen you weren’t okay.” 

It takes a second for Kanan’s arms to respond, moving slowly to wind around her. He holds her close. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. Not your fault.” Seeing Hera so distressed makes Kanan even more upset with himself. “I’m sorry.”

Hera pulls away to study his face. “Does Ezra know?” she asks quietly.

“No.” Kanan can feel his face burn with shame. “You’re the only one I’ve told.”

Hera’s silent for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him,” she says gently. “You need to move past this- for both your benefit and his.”

“I know.” Kanan swallows. “I always meant to tell him, I just… what am I going to do if he wants nothing to do with me? What if he hates me?” He hates how much of a coward he’s being, but he can’t help it.

Hera makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, for starters, I don’t think Ezra could ever _hate_ you. He might be angry, or upset with you, but I seriously doubt he’d ever hate you. And it was an accident- Ezra’s a smart boy, he knows you’d never do anything to hurt him. And he’s tougher than he seems.” Her expression turns pensive. “Sometimes, we all tend to underestimate him because he’s so young. But first and foremost, he’s a survivor. He wouldn’t have made it on the streets if he wasn’t.”

They all have that in common; children who were forced to grow up too fast.

“You’re right,” Kanan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course you’re right. I’ll tell him. I can’t put it off any more.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Hera’s forehead.  
“Thank you. For understanding.”

Hera smiles and reaches up to give him a real kiss. “You’ll get through it,” she murmurs softly. 

Kanan knows there’s a chance this could all end badly, but Hera’s love and acceptance has given him the courage to try and make things right.

It’s time. 

________________________________________

Kanan stands in front of the door to Ezra’s room.

A hundred scenarios run through his mind. There’s no telling how Ezra will react- anger, rejection, loathing… he’d deserve all of it. A small voice is urging him to turn back now, to wait just a little longer to admit what he did, but Kanan’s listened to it for the last time. He forces himself to swipe the door open and step into the room.

No turning back. 

Ezra looks up at him in surprise. “Oh, hey Kanan! Didn’t expect to see you so soon. What’s up?”

"Ezra, we need to talk." Kanan's voice is heavy, dripping with severity.

"Uh, sure... about what?" Ezra tries to sound casual, but Kanan doesn't miss the flash of anxiety in his padawan's eyes.

"About what happened that day." Kanan cuts straight to the point before he loses his nerve. "The day you got hurt.”

Kanan doesn’t need the force to see the immediate discomfort that comes over Ezra. He glances away to avoid Kanan’s eyes, swallowing. "I already know what happened," he says stiffly, unease coming off him in waves. "I wasn't watching my surroundings, I let my guard down, and one of them must've-"

"No," Kanan says. "The bolt that hit you? It was me; a stray shot deflected off my lightsaber."

Ezra chews on his lip. Several emotions fight for dominance on his face; doubt, hesitation, anguish… but shock is markedly absent. "You- you don't know that. It could've been anyone-"

"It was me," Kanan interrupts, because he _knows,_ and at this point he's certain Ezra does too. "We both felt it."

There's a long pause before Ezra finally meets his gaze, wary. "So?"

"So?" Kanan's stunned. "Wh- what do you mean?"

"So what? It- it doesn't matter how it happened, it was an accident, and-" Ezra takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around himself. "And I know that. I don't blame you, Kanan."

Kanan stares at him. "But- Ezra, it's my fault you were hurt! Because of me, you can't _walk.”_

Ezra flinches. "I know that," he insists.

"Then why aren't you- I don't understand how-"

"What’s there to understand?” Ezra demands. “I know what happened, and I don’t hold it against you- what’s wrong with that? What do you want me to do, huh? Get angry? Say that I hate you? _Is that what you want, Kanan?"_ His voice rises steadily until he's almost shouting, and the force crackles with emotion, churning through the air like electricity.

"It's what I deserve!" Kanan shouts back. “It was my responsibility to keep you safe- I should’ve protected you! But instead, I’m the one who hurt you. I-” His voice breaks without warning, his eyes stinging. “I _failed_ you,” he whispers. 

Ezra blinks, taken aback. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, swallows hard- the shock pierces his very core, Kanan can feel it, and he has no idea how to react. 

Kanan sighs heavily, burying his face in his hands. “Sometimes, I wish I had never picked you up on Lothal. You would’ve been better off if you’d never met me.”

Ezra rears back, eyes wide. “What? Kanan, that’s crazy! Look, I’ll admit it’s been hard, harder than I expected. But I’ll take firefights and storm troopers and Inquisitors any day over going back to that life.”

Kanan looks up in surprise, and Ezra sighs. 

“Back on Lothal,” he begins quietly, “I was nothing. Just another lifeform scraping by to survive- and for what?” Ezra shakes his head and gives a small, dry laugh. “There was no purpose to my life. The Empire hurt me, hurt everyone, and there was nothing I could do! I was helpless to stop them, to make a difference. Do you know how badly I wished I could do something? I would’ve given anything for the chance to fight back! And now… now I’m here. I’m doing what I always wanted to do, what I was always _meant_ to do.”

Ezra pauses, smiling fondly, and Kanan is suddenly reminded of Hera. He really has taken after her.

“I have no regrets, Kanan,” Ezra continues. “I chose this life, and I’m not gonna let this stop me.” He meets Kanan’s gaze evenly. “I didn’t think you would either.”

Kanan lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Ezra, I… I had no idea.”

“Heh, well… now you know.” Ezra’s expression is suddenly shy, perhaps slightly embarrassed by how much he ending up sharing. “Did you really think I regretted meeting you?” he asks uncertainly.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Kanan says simply. Now that the air is cleared between them, he feels an odd sort of calm come over him. The severity of it all seems far away.

“Well, I don’t!” Ezra insists hurriedly. “In case that wasn’t obvious.” 

“Well, I’m still sorry about what happened,” Kanan replies. “In case _that_ wasn’t obvious.”

“I think you’ve made that pretty clear,” Ezra says with a grin. “Besides, I’m sure you can get back in my good graces by doing some favors for me.” He taps his chin in mock concentration. “Hmm, okay, how about… you have to be my personal attendant and do whatever I ask until the surgery!”

“I already do that…” Kanan objects, smiling despite himself.

“Tut tut! No complaining!” Ezra admonishes. “Now, fluff my pillows! Swab the floors! Run down to the mess and fetch me the finest, freshest juice on the ship!” He claps twice. “Hurry along now!”

Ezra’s antics break the last of the tension between them, and Kanan laughs, ruffling the teen’s scruffy hair. “How about I fetch us some dinner and play a few rounds of dejarik? I might even let you win again.”

“Also good,” Ezra amends graciously. “Though, I _totally_ got you that one time,” he adds.

“We’ll see.” Kanan grins, heading for the door.

“Hey, Kanan?” The last of Ezra’s dramatic façade has fallen away, leaving nothing but quiet, honest sincerity. “Thank you. For everything.”

The unexpected concession fills Kanan with warmth. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he says softly. “I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll be here,” Ezra replies good-naturedly.

The door slides shut, and for the first time in almost a week Kanan reaches out to the force. His return is hesitant and almost sheepish, like a wayward tooka pup who strayed too far from home. He lowers his walls and releases the last of his anger at the force, and his return is accepted immediately and without question, easing him back into the peace and contentment he finds there.

Though he may not be entirely ready to forgive himself for what happened to Ezra, he’s ready to move forward as a child of the living force. 

And if his padawan can so readily forgive him, then maybe Kanan’s not as forgone as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that brings us to the end of this story! I may end up writing more oneshots to fit this verse, based on your response and feedback, but I am certain it will never be a long, multi-chaptered story. I already have a few ideas for things I'd like to write, and like I said earlier I'd be sure to bring in Zeb and Sabine if I did end up doing it. 
> 
> And I would be sure to cover Ezra's surgery and recovery, and explain how I designed his prosthetic. I almost added an epilogue featuring Ezra post-surgery, but I felt it brought an abrupt and out of place halt to the storyline I had been setting up. This arc was always about Kanan dealing with the aftermath of the accident, and how his and Ezra's relationship changed because of it. Future installments would be more focused on Ezra's personal journey, possibly even from his POV. 
> 
> So, let me know if you liked this and want to see more! I'm aware it's been a while so my original audience might have dwindled, but if there's a big enough call for it I would be happy to add on. Thanks for reading! - Aqua


End file.
